At Death's Door: The 42nd Hunger Games
by Socially Awkward Wolf
Summary: The Hunger Games are looming around the corner once again, and twenty-four tributes are entered into the arena. Some will starve, some will become insane, and some may even wilt away, but only one comes out in the end, leaving twenty-three to fade out of existence. This is the story of the 42nd Hunger Games.


**Lust Manucain, District 1 Mentor, Victor of the 19th Hunger Games**

* * *

"I'm getting too old for this," I think out loud, getting looks from my other fellow mentor, Desiree Daulara.

"Lust, you're only thirty-six years old, quit complaining."

I sigh, and lean back in the chair I was sitting in. This was boring. I'm never the mentor of a game where they have big fights between tributes, those always occurred when I sat on my couch, lounging and relaxing.

I've always hated the reapings. They may have been the first step to getting sponsors, but they were boring. The most exiting things that happen are betting on who's going to make it to the stage first, or whose going to limp home, forever being ridiculed by their friends and families. Honor was a large thing here in District 1, and you lose all of your honor when you don't make it to that stage.

I stare and look at the buildings of District 1, and admire their beauty. The land of the rich and the successful. Way more wealthy than any other District. This should stand out as an example to other Districts, especially the lower ones such as eleven and twelve, that they will never have as much as we have. Too bad for them.

"Welcome welcome, to the Reaping for the 42nd Annual Hunger Games!" Says the escort, Shine Hera.

Shine was possibly the weirdest person I've met, personality and appearance wise. She had platinum blonde hair, most likely dyed, and bright golden skin. If you looked at her for too long, you could be temporarily blinded. I learned that the hard way a few years ago.

"First, we have a video for all of you presented from the Capitol!"

A projector flashes on in front of the Justice Building, and the video starts. For all I know, everyone hates it. That annoying video keeps Desiree and I in suspense of who we have to mentor. I'm always full of anxiety during the reaping. Sometimes, you get an amazing tribute, but a few times there have been Careers that are under par. I really hope at least one here will be a true contender.

After the video finishes, Mrs. Overly Radiant saunters over to the bowl containing the girl's names.

"Ladies first!" She says cheerfully. Just get it over with woman. "And our female tribute is Bel-"

"I volunteer!" calls a girl from the eighteen year old section. No one goes up to challenge her, and she knows this is her time to shine. The girl has strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and is wearing an elegant silver dress.

"And what's your name, swee-"

"Azura Fields, madam." I like how she called her madam, yet interrupted her midsentence. She seems interesting, but I want to see the guy before I call mentoring a tribute.

"And our male tribute is-"

The sound of a punch interrupts her once again, and then Shine looks frustrated. It's really funny to see escorts just get interrupted. Their expressions are priceless.

"And your name is?" She says, finally getting a full sentence in. Good for you Shine. Well done indeed.

"Luxor Norman, your next victor."

I almost laugh. Usually the tributes who say this are killed by the weak, but he surely doesn't know this.

"I call mentoring the girl," I whisper to Desiree.

"Whatever."

These games would be awesome indeed.

* * *

**Darina Drake, District Two Mentor, Victor of the 33rd Hunger Games**

* * *

Nervousness strikes me. All of these teenagers, fighting to who has the right to be the next "Victor" of the Hunger Games. It's pathetic to think I was once one of them. I thought they would make me escape my vile parents, who did nothing but sit on their exquisite thrones while I trained, cooked, and cleaned.

My younger sister was their favorite. She was my least favorite person of all, being stupid and lazy. She actually volunteered for the Games a few years back. She died in the Bloodbath, having her temple caved in by a Career. I enjoyed watching her fail. Her training score of 5, her arrogance, her poor interview. I mean, she didn't even train for a day of her life. Actually, she did, but five minutes in she got a small cut and decided to quit. That was good, 'cause training is my thing in this family.

After I volunteered, it felt amazing when I was in the Capitol. The luxuries, the fame, the relaxation. Even a training score of 10 and an amazing interview. I was just another above average Career tribute.

Then came the bloodbath. My District partner was killed, as well as three other Careers. The total death count was 16 that day. We were already down to the final eight after a few hours. After a day or two, the alliance split. That was very bad. Both of my remaining allies killed each other, stabbing each other at the same time. It was the boy from four and the girl from one, or something.

I lived off of the Cornucopia supplies for a few days, then killed the boy from eleven who miraculously survived that long. Five were left. Two tributes got into a knife fight. The girl from seven died. Four left.

I assumed the Games were verging on the edge of being boring, so the Gamemakers decided to wrap them up. A poisonous sludge seeped from the ground, and slowly filled the arena. The girl from five died by touching it, being ever so curious. Three left.

The Gamemakers flushed us out onto the peak of a mountain, and our final showdown was here. The boy from ten, the girl from nine, and me.

The boy started attacking me, but was stabbed in the back by the girl from nine. Two left.

It was the scariest moment of my life. The girl stabbed me in the stomach after a few minutes of fighting, but I threw her over into the poison. She was eaten away by it, losing herself as seconds passed.

After I was declared victor, I just wanted to curl up and die. The Hunger Games were awful. It isn't fair, how children are forced to fight each other and embrace it. Only the worst of people deserve this. And I thought I was the worst.

The reaping had already started, and our escort, Berrilius Corning, was walking to draw the girls. I always zone out like this on reaping day. It was habit, but it let me skip that awful video they present every single year.

"And our female tribute this year is Kay-"

"I volunteer!"

A girl from the sixteen year old section walks up on stage. She had black hair down to about her mid-back, and chocolate brown eyes. She would have no trouble getting sponsors, but I don't want this girl volunteering herself through the arena. She probably in this for the fame.

She takes the microphone, and says her name is Alicia Caesar. She says it very humbly, and I already know she isn't like the other Career girls, laughing at the weak or bullying them. She looked like she had compassion. That could be her downfall, but it was a nice trait.

"The male tribute is Cayli-"

"I volunteer!"

A large eighteen year old boy walks onto the stage, glaring at the cameras.

"He isn't exactly photogenic, is he?" Whispers the other mentor, Quintus Vex.

I silently nod, and by the looks of it, he's probably going to go on a mad, resulting killing spree. But I could be wrong. The boy identifies himself as Pontius Pavel, and he scared me straight. For all I know, he could be my mentor.

As I look at these two tributes, I am concerned for them in the long run. They do not know what their getting themselves into.

* * *

**Flint Maakan, District 3 Mentor, Victor of the 37th Hunger Games**

* * *

I shiver as the rain in the square falls. It reminded me way too much of the day I was reaped. I was a strong, young man at the age of sixteen back then, but I wasn't really social. I couldn't attract sponsors as much as some, and I faded into the backround.

I always used to hate that, but now, with my first year of mentoring, I miss being ignored. There's so much pressure on you, and most consider you a failure if you don't come home with one of your tributes alive. I refuse to turn myself to drinking or morphling, because I've seen the pictures of other mentors, and they don't look so good.

In my Games, it turned out that I was a fan favorite. I was strong and smart, and people thought it was cute that I was shy. I'm not really sure how shy people are cute, but I'm not going to ask.

The escort known as Zephyr Granit walks over to Cypher, the other mentor, and myself.

"Isn't this wonderf-"

"No," Starts Cypher, "Shut up and sit down."

Zephyr looks shocked. I couldn't help but letting out a small laugh at her reaction. The only good thing about being a mentor was being able to mess with the escorts and shock them. It was the only way to express hatred toward the Capitol. Insulting the people who reaped the children.

As Zephyr walks to the microphone where hundreds of thousands of children aged 12 to 18 years old wait. Most were frail, had ashen skin, and wore glasses. Some, evidently the richer citizens of the District, were plump and looked lazy. Either way, you were pretty much dead if your name was picked.

"Kaya, McCarthy! Do we have a Kaya McCarthy?"

Of course we do. Their name wouldn't be in the bowl if there wasn't one.

A girl from the fifteen year olds walks up, shivering. She had short brown hair hazel eyes, and wore a white lace dress. With her pale skin, she could be a ghost.

"Now, for... the _boys."_

Jeez lady, you don't need to make it dramatic, you're not going to escort District One like that.

"Stefan Zula!"

The tallest boy there starts walking up, shivering as well. He looks like he's about to cry. He wore glasses as well, had dark red hair, brown eyes, and looked like a stick. He had to be six foot six, but he was so thin. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He looked like a lost puppy.

"Shake hands you two!"

Stefan reaches out for Kaya's hand, and their hands embrace. They shake hands, then are escorted to the small rooms used to say goodbyes.

I don't think I'll survive this. There may be three dead bodies returning to District 3.

* * *

**Marie Marcus, District 4 Mentor, Victor of the 15th Hunger Games**

* * *

I stand on the stage overlooking the District, filled with anxiety. My son was planning to volunteer this year. I don't think he is prepared for this kind of thing. He's lazy and ignorant. I wonder how I am even related to him personality wise. I'm forty-five years old and I wonder how he became himself from the past seventeen years I've been his mother. The most fatherly figure he's had is his trainer at the Training Center. I didn't really trust him, because he said my own baby was the most likely one from the Training Center to be a Victor. My son's image to the trainer was just a screen. The trainer said he was hardworking, tough, and determined. In reality, he was lazy, a wuss, and had no aim in life. My son said he never wanted a job or to work. He just wants to go and win the Hunger Games so he doesn't have to do anything else in his life.

Of course I love him, but he doesn't really grasp reality. If he doesn't make it to that stage first, he's going to be living in the slums of District 4. I don't want to kick him out, but I don't want to hide him from the world either.

"HelloDistrictFour!"

Great. It's Reed Marshall. The ceremony's already started.

Reed never spaces his words, making him hard to understand. I can't tell if this is because of nervousness, a disorder, improper education, or if he's trying to be funny.

"Ourfirsttributeis," he takes a deep breath, then starts again, "F-"

"I volunteer!" Says two voices simultaneously. They both are from the sixteen year old section. We all know that this won't end well.

Fights for the right to participate in the Games were rare in District 4. They were more common in Districts One and Two, and were usually bloodier.

Both the girls attempt to run up to the stage, showing no interest in each other. Unfortunately, one of the girls, one with dark brown eyes and long blonde hair, didn't have the foresight to wear the proper footwear. She ran very slowly, and instantly collapsed when the other girl pushed her down. She had a dress that restricted movement, and was wearing high heels.

The one that made it looked smarter and prettier than the other girl. She was as presentable as she could be after getting into a fight. The girl had russet brown hair curled down slightly past her shoulders, hazel eyes that looked greenish-brown, and could get quite a few sponsors based on her appearance.

She take the microphone, and speaks into it, sounding slightly tired.

"Breeze Aluna," Is all she says in the microphone.

"Nowfortheboys!"

Just as Reed picks out a slip, a voice yells out.

"I volunteer!"

That's Mister High and Mighty for you. Kaius Marcus, my own son. He didn't follow the unspoken rule about volunteering before his name was pulled. That was some kind of disrespect. Sometimes I wish I didn't have a son.

As Kaius walks on stage, he just says his name ever so casually, with no arrogance nor modesty. He seemed bored. You don't get bored when your in the Hunger Games. It's a once in a life time thing, and possibly the last thing most people do.

I sigh as Kaius shakes the hand of Breeze, and I know he has a lot to learn.

* * *

**Hello everyone! I am basically making this story because I've always wanted to make twenty four of my own tributes and make them face off against each other in the Hunger Games, so here I am. This is obviously not an SYOT, but I have one if you did not know that. **

**I will ask questions at the end of each chapter on your opinions of the tributes and other things, and you may answer them if you wish.**

**Based on the escorts, mentors, and tributes, which District is your favorite?**

**Which mentor's PoV was the most interesting? **

**Based on the reactions and descriptions of the eight revealed tributes from this chapter, who stood out the most, and how so? **

**And finally, what do you think of this story?**


End file.
